


Sunshine

by Mouse453



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom!Cas, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mystery, Sub!Dean, may be smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse453/pseuds/Mouse453
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a detective in a violent crimes unit.  He's close to catching Lucifer (Luke) and Alastair when his life changes. Spiraling into a deep depression, how can he save anyone when he can't save himself.<br/>Dean POV<br/>Castiel POV<br/>(Destiel may be endgame)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is my first SPN fic. Have any triggers? Let me know in the comments. Will write more for praise. I'm shameless. Will try to update as soon as possible. Long first chapter set up. Other chapters will be shorter. Also this chapter is kinda shitty, I just needed to set some stuff up.

Dean  
* * *  
I had been tracking them for so long. As a detective in the gang violence and other violent crimes unit, it was his job to track and catch the worst of the worst. Those that murdered mercilessly, that seemed to take enjoyment in cutting up they're prey. Lucifer, as he was nicknamed from his actual name "Luke", was the head of his gang, and was the worst of all. His victims would be tortured, some just physically, cut into pieces and then left there to bleed out. Some of their eyes or tongues would be ripped out. His stronger victims he was much more brutal towards. Not only would he torture them physically, but mentally he broke them, making them into cruel and twisted beings that did his wishes. Their scars ran as deep mentally as the thick pink scars that rose above their skin did.

We caught one of his victims, his own brother, Rafael. His dark skin was cut up with white lines running across his back like zebra stripes. He screamed and clawed at us, squashing any attempt in us trying to help him. He had been Lucifer's right hand man for years and it seemed as if he adopted his love of violence from him. We have him locked up in a psych ward somewhere, where he can never hurt someone again. But tonight was my night, I would finally get those sons of a bitches Lucifer and Alastair that tortured and killed my father. Alastair hadn't been one of his victims but a willing recruit of Luke's, becoming his second in command. I creeped behind a corner and readied my gun, sticking my knife in its pouch on my belt. The dark warehouse was where the two had rumored to be, and it seemed to fit their style. Driving victims mad with darkness was one of their favorite techniques.

The ceilings were high and there were long, conveyer belt type things that stretched across the warehouse every 100-150 feet and they started about 2/3 the way up to the ceiling. The only source of light was a small slit of moonlight that streamed out of the top of the building, but it wasn't very helpful for finding my way around. Backup was outside, but I couldn't bring in more than myself, I couldn't trust them to know have the guts to shoot the bastards if it came down to it. 

I tried to call Jo, my girlfriend, earlier to let her know I'd be okay, or more likely to say goodbye in case anything happened to me, but she didn't pick up. Her voicemail was full like always and I couldn't tell her I loved her one last time. She didn't know the exact nature of my work, but she did know I was a cop, so at least she knew there was some risk when she got into a relationship with me.  
I walked still crouching with my gun down a small corridor into the main part of the building. It was so quiet. I thought I'd hear screaming or wailing, but there was nothing but the wind that blew across the roof. I scrunched my brows and ran a nervous hand through my light brown hair. The department had gotten the information that they would be here from a rival gang member as a plea deal. Her name was Abbadon, a fellow Luke supporter that went rogue. She was reliable, at least I had thought, and now I feel as though I'd been set up.

A chill went up my spine as a loud screech pierced my ears followed by a distant echoed voice.

"Dean, how lovely of you to show up," It sounded like it was coming over an intercom system. I couldn't tell who it was because of the Echo and static.  
"We've been expecting you Mr. Winchester, pity it had to be under such," the breathy and higher pitched voice paused for a second, "unfortunate circumstances." Alastair. It had to be. My hair stood up all around my body and I looked for the nearest corner to crouch in, quickly dodging into it.

"Awww come on now, do you really think this would work." There was no question in the voice; it was all games and no fun. I didn't know what to do so I stayed in my unlit corner, gun clutched tightly in my hands.  
"I would really love to get to work Dean, Michael wants you as his personal pet, and he needs someone to live vicariously through when he gets older. Of course, I'd have to," Alastair paused again, and he said the last bit with whiny laugh, "roughen you up a bit."

I grew increasingly ill, damn you Abbadon. She set me up, and if I didn't get out of this than the bitch walks free, although that's probably what she was counting on.  
For a brief moment I couldn't help but imagine what would happen if I became Michael's toy. He and Lucifer ran the whole show together, side by side. I don't know who corrupted who, but Michael, being the older brother, was probably the one who made Luke the way he was. Or maybe they were both born twisted, it didn't matter. I imagined myself doing whatever Michael wanted, murdering the innocent, torturing those who didn't deserve it, eliciting screams from people I probably knew in another life. I almost vomited and was thankful that I hadn't eaten that day.

The warehouse became silent for a moment, and I slowly inched along the dark wall, trying to get a better view of the room. There was no way to climb out; the walls were straight and a metallic material. Besides, it was too high, if I fell even from one of the conveyer-belt type things I would probably have died, and those were only 2/3 of the way up to the roof. I couldn't go back into the corridor I came through, Alastair and Luke were probably expecting I'd try to do that, so the only option I had was to move silently along the wall, hoping they couldn't see me.

"Come out and play Deeaann," the voice came on again, it was disturbing and a pitch that could make anyone's skin crawl. This time he sounded annoyed, "we don't have all night Deany, I have other business to attend to, we have to train Lucifer's pup as well as you." Lucifer's pup? That caught my attention, it would make sense that Michael would need some muscle, being in his early 40s, but Lucifer was only 32, still plenty young enough.  
"You see he's actually here with us, but if you don't cooperate, I'm afraid we'll have to terminate him, and oh boy Luci would be mad." I had to save whoever this poor man was; he didn't deserve what they may do to him. Alastair's voice came but on, but all he was doing was laughing. The bastard was laughing. A short, disgusting laugh that made my insides twist.

My head spun as I tried to process what was going on. Suddenly a loud click reverberated throughout the building and a light came on above one of the conveyer-belts which I now knew was actually just a very wide and thick beam that ran across the width of the structure. There were two figures, but I could only tell the shape of them because of the angle of the light. One of the figures was short and seemed like they were holding the other one. The slim frame wrapped around the larger one, much larger. I guessed it was a man, because he was incredibly tall. He had a larger frame than the girl, and almost seemed muscular. It dawned on me that this may be the one that is set to be Lucifer's pet. And then I heard a voice I never expected.

"Dean! No, run!" It was Sam, he yelled in a gravelly voice and I could tell that he was the figure that on the beam because he wiggled and try to get free. I tried to look for a way to get to him, and it was simple, they'd put up an obvious ladder climbing up to the beam across the way.

"Go on Dean, save Sam." I growled inwardly and tried to think of my options.

"NO, DEAN NO!" And I ran, across the open part of the warehouse and over to the ladder, I didn't care if it was a trap, nothing came before Sammy, my little brother, the one I raised and cared for and loved. I can't remember how I got there but I was now up on the beam, adrenaline coursing through my veins. And I saw her. Jo had a large knife across Sam's neck, "Don't move or he'll die," she stated. She was shaking and her long blonde hair swayed back and forth. She looked like she was crying.  
I stood there in shock, "Jo?"

"They threatened to kill my mom Dean, My mom and Ash, I can't let them, he has to die Dean." I stepped closer to her with my gun in my hand. She stepped back and yelled, "DROP IT DEAN, NOW!" So I did, dropping it in front of her, and she used her black leather boot to kick the gun down off the beam. She stood there still crying as I tried to reason with her, "please Jo, he's everything, he's my Sammy."

"I'm sorry," she whispered and she took her knife and slid it into his back, earning a loud scream from him. I charged forward, knife in my hand, vision red. I pushed Jo and she stumbled back, Sam still attached to her knife and groaning loudly. I tried pushing her again, but she wouldn't let go, and my knife sunk into her skin, and at that moment she fell backward, dragging Sam and her off the beam plummeting toward the ground.


	2. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is slipping, and it doesn't look like anyone can reach through to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for long update time. I was hoping to get a lot more out of this chapter but it turned out to be kinda long so I decided to cut it here. Trigger warning for alcoholism and implied self abuse

Chapter 2: Spiral  
Six Months Later  
Dean  
* * *

I leaned over the hospital bed, resting my arms on the rails, listening to the gentle beep of the machines. I scanned Sammy’s face, it was so young, a thick pink scar from Jo’s knife tore across his cheek, making him look scarier, less like the young law student at Stanford. His long blonde hair flipped up at the ends, and was messier than usual. I really needed it cut it, it’d been months since he last had a trim. The back was probably matted; hospitals bed weren’t the best for detangling knots. I wondered how often he showered. I wished I could have seen the light in the green, blue, and brown twists that made up his eyes. I wished I could have seen the way his smile made those stupid lines near his eyes that lit up his whole face. I wished I could have seen him walk around and bitch about how I was a horrible brother for making fun of his fear of clowns. I wished that I didn’t have to watch him wasting away in a coma, his body dying more and more every day, only kept alive by breathing machines and tubes that fed him nutrients. Where was little Sammy, that cried when he had nightmares and got scared when Dad went out on his “missions.” I put both elbows on the bar, resting my head in-between them locking my hands around my neck. I whispered, barely audible over the beep of the machines, not like anyone was listening, “I wish I couldn’t feel Sammy, I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.” A tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away as quickly as it had appeared. 

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, one of the nurses, Lisa I think her name was, brought a comfier chair for me after about two weeks of coming in every day. She called me a permanent resident and made me eat every time she saw me. She kept people from work from trying to see me; overall, she was one of the nicest there. She was cute, long black hair and dark brown eyes, she had a son she would tell me about, his name was Ben, and she told me about her boyfriend, although she never mentioned his name. Ben seemed like a cool child, and sometimes when I needed to go into a happy place, I thought of how I could have had a normal life with a wife like Lisa and a kid like Ben. My happy place wasn’t a place I travelled often though, I supposed the plane tickets were too high and the airport in my head didn’t accept, “I’ll pay you later.”

I checked my watch and noted the time, it was 7:40, which meant I had to kill about 10 hours while Sam’s (ex?)girlfriend came in and visited him. I didn’t like talking to her. She was a sweet girl, with blond wavy hair and a killer smile, but she was too caring. She wanted us to go to therapy together. She always asked how I was doing; she wanted to pry my secrets from me like she did from Sam, hoping to make us better, to cure the demons that lived within us. Like that would work. Eventually I learned her schedule so I didn’t run in to her. Tuesday through Thursday she came in between her Biology and Calculus classes, she was a Pre-Med major. So she was there for approximately 2 hours 11:30-1:30. Fridays she came from 8:30 (at night) and usually stayed until the next morning. She was gone by 10:00 when I got there, or at least that’s what Lisa had told me. She then came back stayed all of Sunday and Monday, meaning I had to learn what to do with myself for large periods of time. One time I stayed there, and she only tried to talk to me for about 20 minutes before starting on her homework. Sometimes she would pause and “ask” Sam what he thought of something, or tell him a silly pun she found in her textbook. One time when I was there she just came in and bitched about her college professor, “Sexist son of a bitch.” She would exclaim, and then she broke down and cried. She wailed and threw herself on Sam, (which would have been funny under other circumstances because she was 5’ and he was 6’4”), her small body letting out broken sobs. I took that as my queue to leave, and quickly rushed out of there. 

Jess would be here any minute now, and I had to get away from here, so I quickly hugged Sam and whispered, mostly for my own benefit, “Bye Sammy, remember to use a condom.” I got up and scooted out of the room, waving at Lisa as I left. I bowed my head and pulled my brown leather jacket up onto my shoulders. I hated hospitals, too white, too bright, too many people crowding around; they are jumbled up messes of people and pain. Lost inside my head, I didn’t notice a petite blonde with worried brown eyes approaching me. When I looked up, I knew it was too late, but that didn’t mean I didn’t try to duck around the corner. 

“Dean!” Jess called after me, and I slowly turned around, knowing it would be cruel of me to ignore her. She ran full force into me and wrapped her small arms around me. I lightly put my arms lightly around her, trying to keep my emotions in check. Eventually she pulled away from me, and scrunched up her face. I wondered if I had brushed my teeth this morning, I probably still had coffee breath. She looked upset for a moment, and let out a slow breath.

“Dean,” she whispered slowly, and withdrew herself from me, she looked genuinely upset, and it confused the hell out of me.

“What? What is it?” I asked her, but before I could really question it she wrapped her small hand around my arm and dragged me into the women’s room.

“What the hell Jess? I can’t be in here,” and yet her grip didn’t falter, she dragged me in front of the mirror and shoved me a bit.

“Dean what do you see?” And I was confused for a moment. I looked into the mirror and tried to see what was wrong, my green eyes were sunken in and swollen, I had deep, dark circles under them with bags on top of it made me look like I dug myself out of a graveyard. A light brush of freckles was the only thing that gave my face any color, the rest was pale and looked like death. I shrugged and answered her, “I don’t know, like a guy that works a little too hard?” I tried to laugh a little to lighten the mood. She didn’t return it. 

“Because you know what I see?” She didn’t give me time to answer, “A man that doesn’t get sleep, a man that kills himself every day and still gets up in the morning to take care of others, I see a man with no self-worth, tell me Dean when was the last time you slept?”  
Monday, I thought to myself.

“Oh common Jess, I’m not that irresponsible. I slept yesterday.” She rolled her eyes at me and squinched up her face. She quickly retorted, “Oh yeah? For how long Dean?” I didn’t want to lie to her again so all I shrugged again and mumbled, “I don’t know, a couple hours maybe?” 

“When was the last time you went out Dean? Have you seen Bobby or Kevin lately? There are people here for you and you just refuse to try to get help, Dean you don’t have to go through this alone, please just listen to- where the hell are you going?” I started to walk out of there; I was so fucking done with this conversation. I was done with people thinking I needed help and that I needed to talk with someone, I was perfect for my own situation. How did they expect me to react? I killed my girlfriend and watched her as my brother fell on top of her and slipped into a coma in front of my very eyes. What in the hell was I supposed to do? I strode out of there with all the dignity I could have had at that moment, ignoring Jess racing after me and her concerned protests, and somehow made it to my car. I hopped into my ’67 Impala and drove away from that miserable hole.

Once I hit a red light I started fiddling around with the cassette and put on Traveling Riverside Blues by Led Zeppelin, and relaxed into the music. The world seemed to flutter by as I drove the Impala. I didn’t have to think about Jess, about the job I quit or the 4 months of mandatory therapy I was put into, I didn’t have to think about anything other than the purr of the engine and the way my “baby” drove so smoothly over every bump and crack of the Kansas town Overland Park. I could think back of happy memories with Sam riding around in the car and begging to drive. I could be happy in my car, calm and relaxed. At least until I got home. 

I drove into my car and tried not to think, tried to keep my thoughts in check until I could get into my house, until I could open a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey. I couldn’t keep the memories from flooding in, and the next thing I knew I was collapsed onto my driveway.  
* * *  
They found me on the beam, after 15 minutes of no response. I couldn't go down to face my dead girlfriend. They found me lying there. I couldn’t even go down to check what I could do for Sammy; I guessed I thought that he was already dead. They found me curled in a ball, sobbing. I couldn’t even pick myself up. They found me a shell of a man, and when they carried me down and out of the warehouse they found that I was in pieces. 

“Dean, common Dean snap out of it,” he was shaking me now, “Uncle” Bobby was shaking me and I didn’t even have the decency to respond to him, “Dean common, Dean, we need you out here, Dean… DEAN! Sam needs you dean, he can’t do this without you, he’s alive for now but he needs your help, you have to help us.” I heard the words, but they flowed in and out of my ears like a foreign language.

"We’re losing him,” someone muttered, I couldn’t tell who thought, everything was a jumble of sights and sounds, somehow we got into an ambulance. When did an ambulance get here? I couldn’t really focus on anything though, well besides Alastair’s word, “Oh Dean, you’re closer than we thought.” Closer to what exactly? To breaking? Because I was already broken. To becoming like Michael? That would never ever happen because even if I had wanted to, there was nothing left in me to fight, no passion. All I could do was sit and stare, watch as life passed by. I was utterly and completely gone. Someone was gently surrounding me now.  
“Hey Dean, it’s me, Kevin, you know the nooby Asian kid that you’re training. We really need to get going now; they want to take us up to Sam’s room. They said he’s gonna be okay Dean.” How much time had passed, I thought to myself. “He’s in a coma right now Dean, but they said he’ll probably snap out of it, they just have to figure out what they drugged him with beforehand and how much the fall affected him. He didn’t sustain too many injuries, just a broken harm and a bruised head. Common’ Dean, we need you out here, you told me to be strong, to not let anything get to you. We need you now Dean.” I looked up at him and noticed Bobby and Jodie from the Sherriff’s office standing beside him. They were all staring at me, waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to give them some sign I wasn’t mentally dead, but I was. I just cocked my head and stared right into Bobby’s eyes.

“I just killed my girlfriend and my brother is dead.”  
And then I blacked out.  
* * *  
I groaned and clutched my head, I was lying on the ground next to my car, and the side of my face felt wet. With great effort I managed to get myself off the ground, leaning back against my Impala. Eventually I had enough motivation to get up off the ground and through my front door, locking it behind me. Walking over to my refrigerator, I noticed that I was completely out of anything that had nutritional value. This should have worried ne, but I was preoccupied with grabbing my bottle of Jack and pouring it into a large glass. I didn’t wait to get to the couch before I started drinking. The first few gulps were always the hardest to gulp down, but after that the liquid got easier and easier to swallow. The warmth spread around my chest and flowed around my body, eventually pouring it into a glass was too much effort, so I lifted it up to my lips and let it the liquid slide down my throat. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was telling myself to stop, but the greater part of me knew that this would mean I wouldn’t have to face the torment of my own mind. And that was enough for me. I lost myself and the bottle on the ground at some point, drifting into some form of sleep or better named unconsciousness.  
Castiel  
* * *  
I burst through the door and couldn’t say I was entirely shocked by what I saw. A grown man lying next to a wooden table and couch, glass shards within his arms from a broken bottle of whiskey. They warned me he would be unstable, but I guess they had no idea what had really been going on. I searched around for his keys and quickly made prints of them for easy access later. Eventually I got around to looking at him. Dean Winchester. He was a beautiful man, even in the twisted, unconscious state he was in. I walked over to see him, tall lean build, long legs, and sandy brown hair. His face looked soft and vulnerable, which I attributed to sleep because I could definitely get a feel that he didn’t always look this innocent. I lifted him up and cleaned him off, not an easy feat considering he was a much taller and muscular man than I was. I took the shards out of his arms and wrapped them up, all while he snored away. When I cleaned up the rest of the glass on the floor, I put him back onto the couch, resting his head on a pillow.

He was the best of the best; he was the strongest, fastest, smartest, most courageous cop, and now? Well now, he was a crumpled man in my arms, cuts on his arms and alcohol stains on his shirt. He smelled like a bar, and I was tempted to change his shirt, or throw him in a shower or something, but I thought that any water may wake him up. I felt around for a gun and one was located in his jean pocket, so I decided against trying to wake him up. I studied his face for a bit, he had a chiseled jawline and a light brush of stubble Along the bridge of his nose as a splash of freckles. I wondered about the color of his eyes, under the puffy lids and the bags and the dark circles. He probably needed sleep, sleep that wasn’t alcohol induced. I lifted him up onto his bed, and decided back on my idea that I should at least change him into a clean shirt. I went to his closet and tried to find some large t-shirt and came across one with “Physical Graffiti 1975” on it. That’s Zeppelin… right? I took his current whiskey-soaked shirt off of him and put the new one on. Standing there for a moment, I watched as the man’s chest rose and fell.

I figured I should leave, I figured I should get back to Bobby and Kevin because they were probably worried. I figured I should leave and do something other than stare at him, but he really was. The shirt was tight on him, which outlined his muscular chest without outlining the ugly scars. At that moment I was very mad, where did he get those ugly scars? Who did that to him? Why would anyone harm such a beautiful man? My thoughts were caught up in them. Ugly, ugly scars.

“Goodnight Dean,” I mumbled, and slowly slipped out the door without another sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay cas! Let me know if you guys have any ideas because I may take them into consideration :) (I already have most stuff planned out for this fic but the little things count as well.)


	3. Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is in pretty bad shape, but it just isn't quite the right time for an intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put a lot more into this chapter, but I'm kinda in a slump so this is all I have... Sorry :( Anywho, Jess and Dean were supposed to have very different dialogue but I didn't think the story was quite ready for that. Next chapter should be coming soon

**Castiel**

*** * ***

“Is he okay?” The worried voice came from my care instead of the Nokia I held up to my ear. I groaned loudly because I still did not understand this “high-tech” stuff. Why couldn’t it just go back to the 80s where everything was simpler?

“Hello? Castiel?” Bobby said again, this time more frantic. He hadn’t talked to Dean in months, and I could see why he was nervous.

“He’s fine Bobby, he was just… a little passed out when I saw him.” _Ugly, ugly scars_.

“Balls!” He spat out his favorite phrase. I tried not to laugh at the way it came out garbled because it was over my car’s speaker system.

“Look what happened after his therapy? I thought they had him off alcohol? Didn’t they make sure he was okay?” I questioned.

“After 4 months he just stopped going. 4 months is all that’s mandatory for our department if you happen to… mortally wound someone on the job. After that he disappeared, wouldn’t contact any of us. He’s on paid leave for up to 7 years. We don’t know what to do anymore, we need him back.”

I sat back and groaned, not knowing what to say next. Mr. Winchester’s scars dominated my mind and I was incapable of productive thought. _Ugly, ugly scars_. I also got angry at how shallow Bobby’s interests were. Shouldn’t he be worried about his wellbeing? Not just about how they needed him back on the job. I tried to calm myself down. I tried to tell myself I was being irrational, but I couldn’t shake my anger.

“Look give him some time, wasn’t it his girlfriend that he… mortally wounded? Don’t you think that messes someone up a bit? I have to give him credit for doing this well. He just needs some time.” I tried to reason. _Ugly, ugly scars._

“Look, Castiel, he’s the only chance we have, I care about that boy, I really do. I practically raised the kid. But the real thing is that he’s the best we have, he’s knows all there is to know about Lucifer and his clan. Besides, if he wants closure he should help us find Ellen and Ash, they went missing the night of the big showdown.” Bobby explained, he seemed short of breath and annoyed.

“Use what you have _Mr. Singer._ You’re being completely irrational. I was transferred to this department, and you are my boss, but-” I said before Bobby interrupted me, “That’s right Castiel, you are under my rule, I need that boy back, not because I’m trying to use him, because I need to make sure he’s okay. You’re under my orders, and if you want to transfer back, that’s fine by me. You were needed because of your expertise on Lucifer’s clan, but we also need someone that is able to reason with others. Do your job Castiel.” And he hung up on me.

My entire body was quaking with rage, and I slammed my hand on my horn for no apparent reason. I laughed at myself, such an emotional little thing I happened to be. What was wrong with me? My head was fuzzy and I all I wanted to do was correct those ugly, ugly scars on his body. Go back and time and prevent them from ever happening. They were such ugly things on such a beautiful body. I think I’m way too empathetic. All I could think of is my big brother Gabriel saying, “Wow… you need a life other than your strays, man.”

I definitely needed a drink.

**Dean**

*** * ***

My head was a fuzzy blur when I heard pounding at my door. Everything was too bright and the knocking was too loud and I wanted to roll over and bury myself under the covers. I ended up glancing at my clock instead which only told me that I completely overslept and that it was already 10:30. The knocking got louder and now there was a voice muffled by my door but it sounded female and it definitely wasn’t letting up. I got up out of my bed and pulled on a sweatshirt that lay on the floor without looking at what it actually was. Quickly, I rushed toward through my living room and opened my front door, regretting that I didn’t check the peep-hole beforehand. Jess barged into my living room, puffy-eyed and curls everywhere, obviously she didn’t sleep last night.

“You know what Dean Winchester? You are ridiculous,” Jess said as she pushed me out of the way and went into my kitchen, opening up my fridge. She groaned back at me in response to my empty fridge, “yup, that’s what I thought, you smell like a liquor store and you have nothing in your fridge besides booze. What the hell Dean? We need to go grocery shopping, get you some real food instead of this shit.” And with that, she took out my remaining bottle of vodka and dumped it down my kitchen sink. I was going to try to stop her, but that would look pathetic, and besides that point, my head was pounding and I was confused on why she was actually there in the first place.

“What are you even doing with yourself Dean? Why did you push me away? Because I’m pretty damn pissed about that, like I’m trying to help your sorry ass and then you don’t show up at 8:30 like you usually do, because that’s what that nice nurse told me, and because my class was cancelled I waited for you so I could confront you and then I thought it would just be better to confront you right here because I didn’t know what I’d find and-”

I cut her off, “Look I don’t need you to tell me what to do, you’re not my mother, and I’m perfectly fine! I just ran out of supplies because…” _Think Winchester, think!_ I stuttered for a moment, “Because I had someone over, we used up our food.”

All she did was look at me skeptically, and crossed her arms across her chest. Eventually she relented with a large sigh and asked if I needed her to buy me some food. I figured it would get her out of my hair if I let her get me some supplies so I quickly answered that I would love some food.  
“Anything in particular?”

“I do love burgers, how much money do you want me to give you for this whole thing.” And to that comment she snorted, “Look I don’t need your money, I can buy a few supplies for my fam- for my friends any time.” Yes, a college student was more financially capable of buying a person food than I was at 23 with a salary job that still paid me even when I wasn’t planning on going back.

“Look,” I tried to reason with her, “You go to school, I have a job, why don’t we reason here,” I went over to my wallet pulled out 300 dollars and handed them to her, quickly shushing her protests. I muffled a laugh and said, “That should be enough for some burger meat and other crappy foods like chips and stuff. Have fun, and if you need anything, get it, I don’t want any of that money back.” She looked upset, but it was a way to get her away from me, and yet still put up a friendly image. I realized right then that I could have pulled her into a hug, I could have told her that we were going to get through this together, I could have done a number of things, but at the moment this seemed so much easier, and I really didn’t need another person. I was fine with just Sam and me, because that’s all we ever had.

“Now look, Jess, I really have to take a shower, and as much as I appreciate a cute girl with me, your sorta taken by Sam, so I think you should probably get going, ya know? Study or something?” And with that she scowled and left, slamming the door behind her, and I felt a little proud of myself. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with her for a little while, probably a couple of weeks. I really did need a shower though, I felt out of place in my own body, and usually a shower helped with that.

I walked into my small bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, my face looked messed up, my lips were chapped, and my hair looked like some sort of rat or mouse had nested in there and was now a crazy mess on top of my head. I slipped off my sweatshirt and I looked down at my shirt, and frowned, I was wearing one my Zeppelin T-shirts that Sammy bought me. _When did I change into this?_ I then looked down to my arms, and noticed bandages on them, _what the fuck happened last night?_ I assumed that I’d probably fell on top of my whiskey bottle and I got cut up, but I didn’t even think I kept the stuff to wrap my arms in around the house, _I suppose it’s funny what you can find in a half asleep half-drunk phase._ I slowly removed the bandages and found ugly scratches underneath; they would probably heal and barely show scars, considering how quickly I recovered in general. They weren’t nearly as deep as the scars created by gashes that scattered my chest. I thought that I thought too much, and eventually I stripped the rest of my clothes and hopped into the shower, humming quietly and relaxing into the warm stream of water. Sometimes, a shower is all you need to feel better, to feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders and that you can finally go back to being you again, unfortunately, and a shower just didn’t do that for me. The hot water burned at the cuts on my arms, so I put my arms on either side of the spout and let the stream ran down my face.

Eventually I got out of the shower and slipped on some warm clothes, a large black sweatshirt and jeans, not entirely my style, but it was comfortable and I supposed at the moment it was the most important thing. Eventually I say back on my couch and tossed around the idea of going to see Sam like I usually did on Saturday mornings/afternoons. I didn’t know if Jess would be there though, and I thought one confrontation with her was enough for the day. I went over the events of the day in my mind, and was suddenly mad at Jess; she had no right to come into my home, not like she had. We weren’t family, we weren’t even friends, and suddenly she had the idea that somehow she could come into my house and boss me around _and throw out my fucking liquor supply. Bitch._ When I eventually calmed down, I looked at my watch and noticed it was around 3:00 p.m. _Time flies_ , I thought.

I definitely needed a drink.


	4. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1… The pain is unbearable…  
> 2… Take a deep breath…  
> 3… Dear God make it stop…  
> 4… Just think of Sammy…  
> 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh! So sorry, this chapter got super long. Lot's of stuff happening. I actually cut it short here, new chapter should be up soon

**Dean**

*** * ***

My mind spun as I looked in the mirror, and I considered shaving my stubble but decided against it. I had switched out of my previous black sweatshirt and traded it for a Metallica Black shirt, eventually putting on a heavy, black hoodie to keep me warm. _Am I getting sick?_ I wondered to myself, but put it in the back of my mind. I needed to look at least somewhat presentable to go into a bar, or was it a club? I didn’t want to be labeled as one of those old drunks who went to bars and start telling their war stories and hitting on young women that they obviously have no chance with. I needed to look presentable, I needed to be wanted, I needed to not be me for just one day. I needed to not hate myself for just one moment. Most of the day I spent wandering around my house or on my laptop researching different drugs effects on the body. I thought it was interesting stuff, but mostly I did it for Sammy, because I knew that I had to save him like I always saved my family, I had to be the one to keep myself and others together. I knew that I should get some actual sleep, one that was induced by alcohol, but that just seemed like a hill that wasn’t ready to be climbed. My mind spun and I tried to cling onto the edges of reality before I thought about anything bad again. I tried to think of happier times, times where it was just Sammy and I.

*** * ***

_“Dean, common I’m gonna be late for school!” yelled a small boy with shaggy blonde hair. He had a dark blue shirt on, and he looked like an adorable nerd with his backpack hitched high up on his back._

_“Alright, alright, let me get Dad up first.” I called back to him. He was an annoying little thing sometimes, but I understood that he really wanted to get good grades. Especially now that he was nearing high school it seemed like he always had his nose buried in a book. I knocked on Dad’s door and it swung open. He was sprawled out on his bed, the room stinking of beer and pee. I looked at the empty bottle on the floor, the one that Dad jokingly called, “Hunter’s Helper.” I understood that his job as a detective was stressful, but I didn’t understand why he needed to be a drunken mess 90% of the time. I rolled him over onto his back and looked at his face. A patchy black beard scattered around his mouth and cheeks, and he breathed heavily out of his mouth, the stench a mix of alcohol and tobacco. I went into the other room quickly to grab a glass of water and returned with it, splashing him with it. He roared, and took out the knife from his back pocket, I didn’t have enough time to move out of the way, and it cut a thick line on my collarbone,_

_“Fuck,” I cried out, trying to stifle any noise I was making so that Sam wouldn’t hear._

_Dad just looked at me, disgust in his face, “look at what you fucking did, you worthless piece of- get your fucking ass cleaned up and get Sam to school- what the fuck were you thinking. You’re worthless you know that, absolutely fucking-“_

_“Yes, I know sir, go back to sleep, I’ll see you after school, hopefully when you’re sober” and I left the room. Blood was seeping out of my wound, and I grabbed a washcloth to press against it, noting that I was running out of time before Sam would be late. I threw on a tight sweatshirt over what I was already wearing to keep the wash cloth in place so that the blood wouldn’t get onto my clothes._

_“Dean? You okay!?” Sam called out of me, and I went back into the main room of the conjoined motel rooms._

_“Yeah, I’m fine you little brat, now get into the car.” I said as I tousled his hair, he was almost as tall as me now, and that was scary being that I was 4 years older than he. I laughed a little, which caused me to wince, and I exited the room without another thought. Once we got into the car, it was smooth sailing, Sam chattered about his next math test and I sat back and tried to concentrate on anything but the pain. Eventually we pulled up to the school, and he jumped out, happy to get into the institution that used to cause me such grief, we had been there longer than any other school, and it was annoying thinking about how I had to leave the friends that I actually had time to make. It hadn’t even dawned on me that I would be graduating anyway, it didn’t seem like I would ever get a degree. The middle school and the upper school were connected, so the only highlight of my day was seeing Sam every once-in-awhile. I rolled down my window and yelled, “Hey wait! You forgot your ointment!” and watched as he turned bright red and yelled back, “Jerk!”_

_“Bitch,” I chuckled softly, and went to go to the parking lot, completely forgetting that I should go to the nearby gas station to figure out what to do with my cut. When I parked, a girl named Rhonda came out and gave me a hug, “how’re you doing?” She asked her voice cheery as always._

_“I’m pretty good, just tired,” I paused before the rough sensation of the washcloth rubbed against my collarbone, “I actually left something at home, so I better go get it, catch you later.” I hurried off, but before I could get back into my car she caught my arm and pulled me toward her._

_“Aww common, if you’re going to skip, at least invite me out,” she said, pretending to pout. I laughed and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek, and she turned to catch my mouth. I pulled away quickly and got into my car, whispering a quick, “bye Rhonda,” before racing off to the nearest gas station. When I got to the gas station I grabbed my first aid box and rushed into the bathroom. I took off my shirt and examined the damage. It looked nasty, and it had already bled through the washcloth. I groaned and opened up the kit, quickly pulling out hydrogen peroxide and putting it onto a paper towel. The stinging was almost unbearable, but all I thought about was I couldn’t pass out, I had to pick Sammy up from school, and I had no idea how long I would be out for if I did end up passing out. Eventually once the pain subsided; I got out the needle string from the kit and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on anything besides the sharp metal object working its way into my skin._

_1… The pain is unbearable…_   
_2… Take a deep breath…_   
_3… Dear God make it stop…_   
_4… Just think of Sammy…_   
_5._

_I looked at myself in the mirror, it was caked with dirt and other grime, but I could see myself clearly. I looked as pale as a sheet and my fingertips were wet and sticky. Without taking a second more, I washed my hands and put my shirt back on. I got out of the bathroom and headed for the Impala, my thumb gently gracing over what would soon become a thick scar._

  
*** * ***

  
I sat on the couch, my eyes running absently around my surroundings, and my thumb gently over the large, pink scar on my collarbone.

It took me a moment to recover, my breath came in sharp, ragged intervals, and my entire body was shaking. Everything around me didn’t seem real, I felt like I was caught in between the past and the present, my mind not wanting to let go of my history, but my body trying to catapult me into the here and now. Once I calmed down I looked at my watch and it was almost 8:30, which meant I should have gotten going to the bar, which is exactly what I did, speeding across to one of the bar/clubs that was 15 minutes from my house.

It was loud when I got there, bad music playing over large speakers, flashing lights near a dance floor, but there weren’t a lot of people yet, which was a plus. I made a beeline for the bar; the warm light and bar stools seemed to personally welcome me. A small black woman was there, incredibly skinny, with large brown, curly hair. She smiled at me, and I returned it, and I muttered in a small voice, “double shot of whiskey, will you?” And she poured it for me in a large glass without asking many questions, unlike most bartenders. I sat there for a while before I finally gulped it down, a swift motion, and asked for another, my voice getting a bit louder, my actions a bit smoother.

The bartender never said much, just politely smiled and asked if I wanted anything else before moving on to other people as the crowd started to fill in. Eventually enough people came where the music became louder and people were grinding all over each other on the dance floor. A man came over and sat next to me, he had a round face and a half beard scattered along his face. His brown eyes bulged a bit, and they matched the color of his hair, which was clipped very short. I smirked and went along with my business, mostly because I didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment.

“Hello Darling,” the man said in a thick Scottish accent, and I wondered if it was an act, “My name’s Crowley, what about yours?” I turned to him and examined him more thoroughly, he was wearing an expensive suit and watch, and I thought that he looked like an old colleague of mine.

“Dean,” I replied, not wanting to be rude, but trying to be quick about it, he wasn’t quite my type.

“Well, well Dean, do you have a last name?” He persisted, his speech was slow and drawn out, almost like every word he said was laced with sarcasm, and I couldn’t tell if it was just because of the accent.

“Do you make a normal habit of learning all the inhabitants of the bar?” I replied, noting how he cracked a grin, revealing a set of straight, white teeth.

“Only the special ones, Mr. Winchester,” he said, and my blood ran cold, my entire mind was calculating and I put on the best calm face I could manage for being slightly drunk. I took a sip of my drink to appear like his words hadn’t affected me, and then quickly replied, “I’m so sorry to say that I can’t recall where we know each other from, would you care to enlighten me?”

“Oh Squirrel,” he said, and I furrowed my brows at the new, unwelcome nickname, “your reputation precedes you, but tell me, do you want to get back at him or what?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, swallowing the rest of my drink and ordering a new one.

“Oh I think you do.” My mind spun, I was hoping that maybe if I got drunk enough he would leave me alone, but I had to come to reason that I would have to talk to whomever this was. I took a deep breath and tried to answer him.

“Look, I’m not interested, but thank you kindly. I’ve had a lot to do the past few months, and I’m not looking for any new work, I have enough money.” I knew my words were slurred and that I couldn’t be taken seriously, but I tried to use the most serious tone I could at the time, and hoped it was enough.

The man -Crowley- just chuckled and his voice got very rough and low, “I think you misunderstand the nature of my business, what I can give you, money cannot buy.” And then he straightened up and asked for a check, looking somewhat nervous, “I’ll get back to you Squirrel, but please, give my offer some consideration, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.” He seemed rushed, and I was confused what brought on the sudden change in mood, but my mind couldn’t quite grasp anything that was happening in this situation. All I knew was that he bumped into a man wearing a long trench coat on his way out and the man in the trench coat seemed like he scared Crowley shitless.

The room was spinning and the music was pounding and my body was vibrating from the bass and overall I couldn’t figure out what was going on at all. The man with trench coat sat down next to me, and I was starting to think I attracted the wrong sort of crowd until I looked into his eyes. They were bright blue- light the sky on the perfect summer day- and they seemed to pierce through me. The rest of his face was attractive as well, his eyelids were puffy and he had a straight nose. His lips were memorizing in a way, full and light pink, and even though they were chapped they were still incredibly tempting. Now they were moving, and I wasn’t quite catching what he was saying. I glanced down and saw a white collared shirt with a backward dark blue tie. I laughed and almost reached out to fix it, but it added a bit of charm, and I thought it was funny.

“Hello?” He said trying to get my attention; his voice was rough and gravelly, and incredibly deep.

“Hi, I’m Dean,” I said in my best sober voice, trying to regain any dignity I had left, considering I didn’t know how long I just spent staring at this complete stranger. The room was still spinning, but it seemed like now it was spinning around this man.

“Dean, what a name,” he said, and then paused for a moment as if his next words were incredibly important and the fate of the world depended on them, “is it alright if I sit here with you Dean? I wasn’t quite expecting it to be so, intimidating in here, and I would love a person to chat with.” I grinned, somehow his words sparked a sudden clarity within me and I could concentrate on something. I replied, “I would definitely enjoy the company of someone as handsome as yourself.” _Did I just say that out loud?_ “But first I would love to acquire the knowledge of your name.”

He blushed, and smiled quickly before replacing it with the expression he wore before, squinted eyes and his mouth only slightly pulled up at the corners, “I’m Castiel.”

“Castiel… Castiel, would you like to order a drink with me Castiel?” Castiel laughed, a short and hard sound, and muttered something I couldn’t hear under his breath. Finally he spoke again, his deep voice almost soothing me, “I suppose that is what I came here for, I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I waved the bartender over and had her refill my glass and pour Castiel his own, he looked at the glass like it was poison. I laughed at his reaction and drank all of my whiskey in one gulp. Castiel took a sip and his face got all scrunched up and he coughed a bit, “this stuff tastes a little bit like piss.”

“But it’s strong,” I replied and smiled at him, hoping it would earn a full smile from him. Instead he just chuckled again and took another sip, trying to calm his reaction this time.

“Tell me about yourself Castiel,” I said as I switched to a beer, already feeling myself slipping again.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, his eyes amused.

“Everything.” I say, my voice getting way too excited.  
“You should try to ask something more specific.” I wrack my brain for some sort of question, everything getting fuzzy at the edges again. “What’s your family like?” I finally ask.

“I don’t have one.” He replied, his eyes showing just a hint of sorrow before it was gone and he wore the same expression as earlier.

“What do you mean you don’t have one?” I ask, confusion and suspicion rising within me, how could a person not have a family?

“They are all gone now, but let’s change the subject, what’s your favorite color?”

“The color of your eyes,” I reply without thinking, words slipping out of my mouth like water slides out of a glass with a hole at the bottom. This time he really smiled, the action making lines crinkle at the edges of his eyes, it lit up his entire face. I vowed to make this man smile again. “I also like dark green,” I said, trying not to come off as a huge flirt, “what about you?”

“I like dark blue and green, they’re both so calming, and yet they hold so much promise for something deeper and more.” He looked directly into my eyes as he said this, and he didn’t look away for a long while after.

“That’s deep man.” I say laughing, I was way too out of it for someone to be saying impactful comments towards me. “Where do you work, Castiel.” I liked his name, although it sounded a little awkward coming off of my drunk lips.

“I work as a private investigator, nothing too interesting, what about yourself?” But he said it in a way that made me think he already knew the answer to that question.

“I’m retired, living the easy life.”

“What are 24? You can’t retire yet.”

“I’m 23, and who said so?”

“I said so.”

“Oh, because you have so much more life experience than me?”

“Well yes, as a 24 and 8 month year old, I would say that I have much more life experience than you,” but he grinned while saying this, and I knew that he was just trying to make light conversation. After a bit more light conversation, and another beer on my part, I glanced down at my watch. Shit, it’s 12:30. And I knew I had to get going home.

“I have to go,” I said, the totally effect of my words was less than none considering they were now just a jumbled up mess of sounds. Fortunately Castiel seemed to understand what I was getting at, and chuckled again, offering to walk me back to my car. As I tried to stand up, my legs gave up and I fell right into Castiel’s arms my face coming in contact with his chest. He smelled nice, like sweet smelling cologne.

“I don’t quite think you should be driving Dean,” he asserted, not leaving any room for negotiation, but I still tried.

“Look I’ll be fine, I just got a bit dizzy I just-”

“Stop, I’m driving you home, you can’t even walk in a straight line.” And this time I couldn’t argue because I couldn’t get a good grasp on what was even going on. When we got into the parking lot, I started to fly, and it took me a moment to realize I was actually just in Castiel’s arms. “Whoa Cas, you’re really strong.”

“Cas?” He said, looking into my eyes, his own full of amusement. I sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, “Oh wait, no I’m sorry I’m just a little bit-”

“It’s fine Dean,” he reassured me, “I kind of like it.” The second part was so soft that I thought I imagined it.

“But seriously, how are you doing this, I’m not a small guy.” And he just shook his head, letting out a breathy laugh, “Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice.” He paused for a moment and then looked around, “where is your car Dean?”

“What?”

“Where’s your car, and can you give me your keys?”

“I don’t really let people drive my car,” I grunted, yet my body seemed to betray me as I watched myself hand my keys to this man- this stranger- who I didn’t even know if he had the capability of driving a stick. He clicked the lock button a few times, making it beep and eventually we came up to the Impala.

“Pretty car.” He breathed out, and promptly opened the door so he could put me in. I was kind of amazed on how strong this man was, and how he seemed so normal carrying me around. It was almost comforting. He started up the car and began to drive, pausing quickly to ask where I live. Funny, my normal suspicious self was nowhere to be found when it came to this man, I was telling him where I lived, giving him the keys to my car, all behavior that was categorized as unsafe. I laughed at my own foolishness.

“Dean are you feeling alright?” Castiel said,

“Mmhhmm, m’fine,” I slurred, my speech quiet and barely clear enough to be heard properly. I could feel myself drifting, but I desperately wanted to cling onto whoever Castiel was, whatever this moment meant, I wanted it to be here forever. I slumped in my seat, watching how easily the man driving was navigating the streets, like he’d been around the area before. I just continued to stare at him, he was clean shaven, which I hadn’t noticed before or I hadn’t cared to notice. The trench coat didn’t quite fit him correctly; it was a bit too big and fell awkwardly on his shoulders. His hair was dark brown, almost black and it was a short business man’s haircut. It looked professional. His face had a nice shape to it, defined cheek bones and a pronounced chin, and yet somehow there was still something very innocent about his face.

“We’re here Dean,” Castiel said as the Impala sputtered to a stop. I looked at him, and didn’t quite understand what he meant until he got out of the car and opened up my own door. I stumbled out onto my driveway, gripping the car to try to steady myself. _It’s fucking cold out_ ¸ I thought to myself. Castiel laughed a bit, “Do you want my jacket?” _Oh wait did I just say that out loud I’m so weird._

“I’m guessing you didn’t mean to say that either,” the amusement in his voice was tangible. I groaned, “God I’m sorry, help me to my door?” And with that he slung my arm around his shoulder and helped me walk in a straight line. I still stumbled a bit, but at least I didn’t fall over, and at least I had my legs under me instead of in the arms of a stranger.

We got to my door and I looked at him, he was almost my height, maybe a bit shorter. His body was close to mine but wasn’t touching mine, and I wanted nothing more than to close the distance, at least a little bit.

“Where are your keys Dean?” Castiel asks, shifting back and forth on his feet, he seemed nervous. I searched around in my pockets and gave him it. He stared at it a moment and unlocked my door, pushing it open a bit.

“There you are Dean,” he says, waiting for me to go in, his face showing just the slightest trace of sadness. I didn’t want him to leave, I didn’t want this beautiful stranger to go and leave me forever. I didn’t have his number, and I was fairly sure he wouldn’t give it to me if I asked, he seemed like a very private person, and he seemed more like he was doing this to be a good Samaritan. I looked at his eyes, and couldn’t stop my words from rushing out of my mouth.

“Stay with me?”


	5. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah I learned how to use italics and bold and stuff... WOOO!!!!  
> Anywho comments are always appreciated, (it makes me want to write more)  
> Anywho I hope you like it.

**Castiel**

*    *    *

“Stay with me,” Dean said.

Dean said, “Stay with me.”

He wanted me to stay with him.  My heart thumped in my chest, and my body was shaking.  I wanted it so badly.  To be invited in and have this be our first encounter, to be able to wrap my arms around him, to settle him into his bed and make sure he would be okay, I wanted it all.  This wasn’t the time though, he was drunk, this was wrong, he was wrong, but damn, I had to fight to keep myself under control.  The night had started off so simple.

I had needed a drink, was that so much to ask?  I didn’t keep any alcohol around my house. Meg, my roommate, thought it was a bad influence.  There was a club with a full bar about 10 minutes from my home, so I took a taxi down there, wanting to take every precaution, and not trusting myself to drive after what I thought I would be drinking that night.  Except nothing of what I imagined actually happened that night.  I got there at about 8:00, ordering a beer from the bartender and giving her a prepaid card to put on file.  I didn’t know that was even a thing, and doubted it, but just in case there was only $150 on the car, a gift from Meg.  All I had hoped was to find a nice guy or girl, talk to them for a few hours, get incredibly drunk, bid whoever I was with a sloppy farewell and never see them again.  The universe, however, does not seem to like the plans I make for myself.

After about an hour or maybe an hour and a half of nursing my beer at a distant table away from the dance floor, I decided to make my way back over to the bar.  I needed something a bit stronger if I was going to be able to relax.  That’s when I saw them.  At first I didn’t recognize who it was sitting next to Dean, but when I did a strong sense of urgency came over me.  Crowley… that son of a bitch.  He wasn’t well known, at least not by the government, but among others he had quite a reputation.  A common drug dealer, he wasn’t incredibly high up on the food chain, but he had enough people paid off that he raked in big cash.  If he was talking to Dean, nothing good could come out of it.  Dean didn’t need to add illegal drug addiction to his list of problems.  Whatever conversation they had was ending as soon as Crowley caught sight of me, and though he looked nervous, his cocky façade was still there.  He quickly brushed past me, and I grabbed his wrist, and whispered silently in his ear, my voice as low as I could make it, “Stay away.”  He just gave me a small grin, and wiggled his eyebrows, quickly pulling away from me.  I weighed my options, I could go protect Dean by going after Crowley, or I could protect him by staying here and watching, or I could confront him.  My mind was caught up in thought, and it became too late for me to go after Crowley, and too later for me to ignore Dean, who was staring at me.  I took a seat next to him, carefully watching as he looked at me.  All I had wanted was a drink that night.

“Are you alright sir? You seemed a bit uncomfortable earlier with that man there and I was just wondering…”  I started, but whatever I was saying was lost to him as he absent-mindedly scanned his eyes over my face.  I grinned quickly and tried another way of approaching him; I slowed down my speech significantly and said, “Hello?”  A wide grin spread over his face, and he introduced himself happily, his words surprisingly clear even though his body language suggested he was quite drunk.  We talked for a bit, and he asked me to drink some disgusting hard alcohol that he was having, which I sipped once or twice before putting it down.  When the time came where he had to leave, he stumbled around, and I took the opportunity to lift him up again.  This time it didn’t seem so bad, mostly because I knew what to expect, but partly because he was awake enough to hold on, his head resting gently against my chest.  _I wonder how many times I’ll carry a drunken Dean Winchester around_.  All I had wanted was a drink.

He looked so peaceful with his head on my shoulder, his breaths were hot against my neck and it made me happy.  He tried to protest me driving him to his house, but I was in no way, shape, or form going to let him drive, considering he was barely able to stay conscious. On the way to his house, he was out of it, half asleep, and yet still trying to mumble direction to me, as if I didn’t already know where I was going.  I sighed and noted to myself how this night had drastically changed from its original purpose.  All I had wanted was a drink.

When we finally got up to his door, I opened it up, and motioned for him to get in, but he didn’t want to.

“Stay with me,” he said, the words seemed so precise, so clear, and yet they couldn’t be.  His voice was deep and rough, and his eyes searched mine, his being inching closer and closer to me.  I looked at him with regret, and then cast my eyes to the side saying clearly, “I’m sorry Dean, I can’t, you’re intoxicated and that wouldn’t be fair and-”

“Please,” Dean pleaded, cutting me off, and now he was right against me, his green eyes staring into mine.  My body told me to do it, close the distance and move into the house.  I shook my head again, this time trying to be a bit more firm with my language.  “Dean I can’t.”

He didn’t look like I expected him to; I expected to look at first upset, and then finally accepting that he had to get himself to sleep.  The way he looked, though, was beautiful, beautiful and defiant, but mostly beautiful.  His freckles were outlined on his face and his entire being seemed to be on top of me and yet we weren’t even touching.  He smiled just then, his eyes looked mischievous and he said, very clearly, “Then just kiss me.”

All I had wanted that night was a drink, but in that moment, all I wanted was Dean.  I pinned him up against the door frame, my hands on either side of him.  I leaned in slowly, my lips ghosting his own before I pulled away. This was too much, this wasn’t why I was here, this wasn’t right. I tried to pull away, but Dean wouldn’t let me.  He tugged on the edges of my coat and pulled me to him, crashing our lips together.  It was hot and sloppy and passion filled.  And wrong.  I slid my hand around the back of his neck, unable to control myself, my whole body pressed against his.  After I don’t know how long I pulled away from and roughly whispered, “No.”  I’m not sure what caused me to go from wanting this man to being repulsed by him, but I couldn’t stand this.  He looked at me and tried to press in again his eyes filled with lust.  I pressed my hands against his arms and pulled away, keeping firm pressure on him to keep him from moving.

“No Dean, this is wrong,” I whispered harshly in his ear, “You should show me some respect, I’m here to protect you, not to fuck you, this is done right here.”

I wasn’t sure how much of this he would remember, but I hope it was all of it.  He needed to learn his place, and I needed to learn mine, and whatever place that was it wasn’t together.  He looked incredibly hurt, and his entire body slumped.  My insides twisted and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.  I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, he was fragile, and I didn’t need to break him further.  I sighed and dropped my hands, gently nudging him into his house and following him inside.  I shut the door and said, “Dean Winchester you need to get yourself together.”

He gaped at me, “How do you know my last name, how do all you people know me?”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

I laughed to myself and gave him points for being perceptive even when drunk, I decided to come clean, it seemed worth it at the moment. “I know Bobby.”

“Oh.”

“He told me that I needed to check up on you, so I have been.”  He looked at me, still disoriented from alcohol, but realization was slowly creeping in.  He nodded and turned away.

“You should leave,” he said, his voice low, “will I have to see you again.”

“Probably,” I said, because there was no point in lying.

“Cas?” My heart leapt for some odd reason at the nickname. _What is wrong with you Castiel?_  I thought to myself. 

“Who are you Castiel?”

“My name is Castiel Novak.”

“Do you really not have a family?”  The question caught me off guard, and I stifled a laugh.

“Yes.” I said, without actually realizing that it was a small lie.  It didn’t really matter though; it was true in my mind.  He stayed silent and nodded, which meant it was time for me to leave; I turned around just as he was entering his room, his hands running through his hair.  I walked out his front door and shut it softly.  Once I was outside I placed my hands on either side of the door frame and leaned in a bit.

“Goodnight Dean.”

*     *     *

A couple hours later, it was 4 a.m. and I hadn’t slept yet, my mind running over the events of the night, after leaving Dean’s house I walked a bit and eventually ended up in Antioch Park.  It was a beautiful place shrouded with large trees.  The year I moved here from Los Angeles, and spent some time at this park.  There were places where I could go to calm down under the complete cover of trees, and I could watch people running around, but most of the time it was a large enough park where I could be alone with my thoughts.  Alone with my thoughts just as I am now.

I had wanted Dean, hadn’t I? What had changed?  I wanted to think that it was because I was morally a good person so I didn’t want to take advantage of a drunken Dean. In all honesty though, I had no idea what had made me go from wanting him, to doing my job.  I knew I had to call Bobby soon, to tell him I royally fucked up, to tell him I confronted Dean and told him that I was practically stalking him.  At least Dean hadn’t reacted badly, and possibly he wouldn’t even remember.  I didn’t understand why I told him.  My entire being confused me, my head was spinning, and I just needed to get my priorities straight.  I laid back into the grass.

I woke up with what I thought was the sun shining in my face, but was really a park patroller shining a flashlight in my face.  It was light out now, but the light of the flashlight was much brighter and was probably going to blind me.  I swatted the hand away, and grumbled and incoherent, “get off me asshole.”

“Hey body, I don’t want to take you in, but I will if I have to,” a higher pitched male voice said, but there was a great amount of amusement in it.  I looked up, “Ezekiel?”  A tall, lanky male helped me up and laughed, “Castiel, you’ve changed since you left Home, a bit less cautious now?” I cracked a grin and got to my feet.

“Who would have thought we both would have ended up staying in Kansas?” I said patting his back and ignoring the last part of his comment.

“You didn’t stay Castiel,” he Zeke said, and I wondered where he was going with this, “you know, Dad missed you after you left home, he always thought that you were going to stay around and help him out, he saved your ass quite a few times.” 

“Well look what a rebel I am,” I said, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted as we walked around.

“We all missed you Castiel, you were the big brother we looked up to when everyone else left, we barely had any guidance after you left.”

I sighed, because this was not the conversation I wanted to have at the moment.  I stopped and looked him in the eye, “I was ready to leave, I needed my own life, away from Dad’s orders, and I encouraged everyone to make their own decisions before I left and…” I shrugged, cutting off my sentence there, what was the point of going on?

“You know he disappeared, Castiel, and the whole Home shattered.”

I felt guilty, of course.  Leaving “The Garrison: Home for God’s Angels” was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.  It was more than just a small orphanage, it was a place where I had family, but it when I left it was way past the time where I needed to spread my wings.  Making my own decisions was important to me. Free Will.  It was a beautiful concept that could just turn out so poorly.  At times it felt like it was a rope that I choked myself with, and yet at other times it felt like I was making a difference in the world, stopping the apocalypse.

“Ezekiel, it was good to see you, but I have to go man, here take my number and maybe we can have lunch sometime.” I say, and rush off after scribbling down my number on a pad that Zeke had given me.

Today had been a rollercoaster, and it wasn’t even 8:00 in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter should be up within a week. I will try to get a regular schedule for updating soon, but right now I push them out as soon as I can


	6. Perspective Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of last chapter that I was too lazy to publish with last chapter. It's a little shorter but this isn't a full chapter so yeah. Comments are appreciated :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of last chapter that I was too lazy to publish with last chapter. It's a little shorter but this isn't a full chapter so yeah. Comments are appreciated :)

### Castiel

### *     *     *

I went home, took a shower, and an Advil, and tried to come up with a reason for my actions.  After showering I looked throughout my closet. There were lines of dark slacks ranging from navy blue to black to blacker, and lines of white, button down, collared shirts.  There were just a few other shirts and pants folded on shelves up above, mostly gifts from people I hadn’t known very well.  I considered my options, the shirt that had a small crumpled bit on the right shoulder or the one with a string hanging from the seam near the left elbow, or the dark gray sweatshirt that my college roommate had given me.  I opted for the last option and a pair of dark sweats, which made me feel sloppy, but it didn’t make sense to put on anything else considering it was Sunday.  The day went by as I sat around and did nothing biding my time until Bobby called me.  My house wasn’t large, but it had all the essentials, a fully working kitchen, and two bathrooms.  The main room was connected to the kitchen, and it split off into the dining room.  Meg’s room was on the opposite side of the house as mine, which was mostly because when we first moved in together she thought that I would have a lot of people over, which turned out to be the complete opposite of what was really happening.

Meg sashayed into my room, her whole presence was sarcastic which was just reinforced by her talking style, “Oh hey Clarence, I thought you were out banging hot women but really your sex life is as boring as Alan Harper’s.”  I looked up at her and furrowed my brow, “I don’t understand that reference,” I replied.

“Two and a half men? Nerdy dude with the hot brother? Really? Nothing? Charlie Sheen the druggie?” Meg tried, but gave up after a little bit.  She leaned back and her brow wavy hair surrounded her very round face.  Her eyebrows were shaped in such a way that made her constantly look like she was mocking you, which she probably was.  She had a small nose and medium sized lips, which were eternally turned up into a half smile that made her seem even more like she was mocking you.  The only part that didn’t quite match up with the rest of her image was her voice, it was high pitched and light, something for a little girl rather than grown, sassy woman.  She knew about this, and compensated with witty remarks and insults, her tongue as sharp as her mind. 

I sat back against my pillow and pulled my covers up around my shoulders, “I kinda fucked up Meg.” She stood up straight and actually put on a concerned face before I gave her a look suggesting I knew it was a ruse, and then she went back to her regular face, “What else is new, you don’t exactly have the best track record for keeping your shit together.”   I frowned at her and pulled the covers over my head.  She came over and sat next to me on the bed, “Look I need cash, so tell me what’s wrong so you can be happy with me and you can give me money for drugs.” I peeked my head out of the covers and said, “I met Dean at a bar and he drunk kissed me and Bobby doesn’t know and I’m stupid.”

“Have to agree with you there Clarence, you seem very stupid.  On the other hand he kissed you, and you seem to regret it so I wouldn’t be too torn up about it.”  She patted my back and paused for a moment she wasn’t a very sentimental one, “now, where do you keep your money?”

“Get out of the room, I don’t trust you with my hiding spot, I’ll get you it in a moment.

“I’m hurt,” she said and smiled, leaving the room to give me some privacy.  I got out of bed and opened up the corner drawer carefully opening up my wallet.  It was empty.

“You bitch, you already took the money!” I yelled after her.

“Bye Clarence!” She called back and slammed our front door.  I flopped myself back on my bed because I had no idea what else to do, and I fell asleep again.

Eventually I woke up to my ring tone going off, an annoying alarm sound that Meg programmed on my phone. For about 3 seconds the ringing didn’t bother me and I just sat there curled in a ball, but then I realized who it might be and shot out of my bed, banging my foot on my night stand.

“Hello, Bobby, is that you?” I quickly said, huffing out loud puffs of air.

“Quit sounding so frantic boy.  Anything new on Dean? Also I need you in here tomorrow, we need to interrogate Abaddon a bit more.” Says Bobby’s voice from my phone.

“Doesn’t she have a lawyer? Also, how long has she been in custody?”

“Your job isn’t to question, it’s to follow orders and report to me.”

I didn’t know how to approach the subject, so I thought forward was the only way to go, “I met Dean at a bar last night, he was talking to a shady man who left, so I went over to see if he was alright.  He was very intoxicated and we had very casual conversation, when he wanted to leave I offered to drive him home because I didn’t trust him behind the wheel,” I left out the part about carrying him, that was for me, “when we got to his house he asked me inside, which I told him would not be the best idea.  He then asked me to kiss him, I almost did, but then I pulled back and realized that it was probably the light drink I had that was causing me to lust after him, he then kissed me which I quickly put an end to.  I escorted him inside, and he asked me who I was, I told him the truth, that I was working for you and that I would likely keep checking up on him.” I ended my rant there, because what else was I going to say.

“Idjit.”  Is all Bobby said and I just kept the phone pressed to my ear, waiting for more.  The other end of the line went quiet for a while before letting out a long sigh, “I don’t know what to say Castiel, he was drunk but that doesn’t mean a lot since he used to get drunk a bunch in college and call me and he would remember every stupid thing he would do and hash it out to me in great detail.  He’s probably rationalizing his own actions as we speak, he still has a brilliant mind.  It probably wasn’t the best idea to tell him you were working for me, he won’t see anyone from work and he hasn’t for months, but I think that’s more because of the idea he doesn’t want to confront… or rather talk about that fact that he killed Jo.  Lucky enough for him that charges were never filed because her only family went missing the day she died.  That’s not the point though, the point is that you are someone new that he’s obviously… attracted to. Use it.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me and then replied, “Yes sir. One question, why me? I mean why did you put me on the job in the first place?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Castiel, have a good night, and try not to spill any more secrets to people that aren’t supposed to hear them.”

He hung up, and all I did was say a broken, “Yes sir,” and went back to bed.  I considered going to get some food since I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch, but food seemed disgusting at the moment, and sleep sounded much better.  I thought back on the past day’s events and wondered why I was such a fuck up.


	7. Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, dean dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'm so sorry this took so long to update. I feel terrible. I had supreme writers block but I got back on track and have a bunch of stuff planned out. Please, please please give me any advice or thought you have on this fanfiction or just a comment to say how I'm doing. Thank you! Updates will come much sooner- I promise.

**Dean**

*    *    *

I took my second shower of the day after Castiel left.  I needed something to get my mind off of my life.  I forgot to take off my clothes, my mind was fuzzy and only when I emerged from the shower did I realize that I was a complete mess.  I took off my wet clothes and put new ones on, climbing into my bed.  I sat there for hours, cold and still wet, trying desperately to think of anything else but my life.

It was light out before I came to my senses, before my hazy mind just turned into a headache and my body rebelled against me.  _I’m not going to think about last night._  So I got up and took an aspirin, forgetting again that I had no alcohol so I opted for water instead.  I wondered if Jess would come to my house again today, or if she would be spending the entire day with Sam like she usually did on Sundays.  I also wondered if she would buy me any beer, but then I remembered she was Sam’s age, 19, and even if she was old enough she was Jess.  Jess was caring, and loyal, and way too damn strict, even when I didn’t see her.  When I was in hospital the first few months, she would tell Lisa to feed me when I wouldn’t let her in the room.   I knew I should have been nicer to her, but I didn’t care enough to try.

I began cleaning, because it was an easy task and it let my mind float away like it had no cares in the world.  I started off by sweeping, then mopping, and finally wiping down the floors with lemon-scented polish.  It reminded me of when I had sat with Mom while she cleaned; it was the same stuff she always bought, and it reminded me of her.

*     *     *

_“Dean, do you want something to eat?” Mom called up to me, and I just sat in my room playing with my toy cars, not paying attention to her.  I liked looking at the cars and imagining taking them apart and putting them back together, it sounded like the coolest thing in the world.  Mom called again, this time in a more sing-song voice, “I have pieeee.” I dropped everything and ran down the stairs, and there my mother was taking pie out of the oven.  She smiled as I ran over to her, and adjusted my light blue shirt that said, “I wuv hugs”.  There was a faint lemon smell, like mother had just polished the floors, and I loved it.  I sat down in the chair and looked at the pie expectantly, and Mom just stood there smiling, her whole face lighting up.  Even though I didn’t notice it at the time, she was a beautiful woman.  She had long, golden curls, with deep brownish green eyes and a well-proportioned face. “Yeah, you think you’re getting the pie first?” I groaned and probably should have expected it, but I was only four and a half, and it took me a while to pick up on her tricks.  She sat down a plate with a turkey sandwich and carrots.  I ate the sandwich quickly, and stared her while quickly looking down at my carrots so she would get the message.  She laughed again as she sat down to start her lunch, not even willing to recognize my little rebellion.  I, then, pushed my plate away from me and exclaimed, “I’m no rabbit!”_

_She smiled again and said, “What a pity, I heard rabbits get extra pie.” And with that I ate all of my carrots.  When she finished, she cut us two slices of pie (mine a bit larger than normal).  We began eating and she would ask me about my favorite toys and kids at school.   When I was almost finished with my pie, Sam had begun crying, and before Mom could get up I rushed over to his crib, picking him up and soothing him._

_“Shhhhh Sammy, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” I said, holding him tight against my chest. Eventually he stopped crying and just hiccupped a bit, and I put him back down in his crib.  Mom looked at me and picked me up, gently kissing my forehead._

_“You know, Sam is six months old, today” she said in a hushed voice._

_“Really?” I asked, and wiggled out of her arms, quickly rushing upstairs.  I got one of my old stuffed animals and gave it to him; it was a teddy bear that I used to love, and still did.  “I think he’d like it better.” Is all I said when Mom gave me a concerned look._

_She smiled, and held me tighter for a little while before letting me down to go play with my cars, and she just stood there._

_A few hours later, Dad came home._

_“Goddamn it John you smell like smoke, were you just smoking outside before you came in?” The shouting already started._

_“It’s fine, I put it out Mary, I swear.”_

_“You need to stop that, it’s so bad for you.”_

_“I’m a big boy; I can take care of myself.”_

_“I don’t want you smoking around the kids, kill yourself, not them.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_A few moments of silence made me think it had stopped, but the argument was far from over._

_“Is that alcohol I smell?”_

_“So what?”_

_“So I thought you were going to stop drinking during the week?”_

_“I just had a couple beers with the guys before I came home.” And with that Mom stomped up the stairs and slammed their bedroom door, probably forgetting it would wake up Sam, so I quickly rushed into the nursery to keep him quiet._

_“Mary…” Dad groaned, and went after her, an apology hanging on his lips.  I just sat in the nursery for a while, holding Sam in my arms.  Eventually both of them came out of their room and into the nursery._

_“It’s late Dean,” Mom said, her voice was quiet, her eyes puffy and red._

_“I’m sorry for keeping you up,” Dad grumbled, and gave me a hug as soon as I put Sam down.  I just sat there, not knowing what to do, but eventually I left the nursery and went to sleep, my mind drifting off into a blissful dream land._

_*     *     *_

_I was burning. It was hot, and I was suffocating.  I tried to open my eyes, but it stung, it stung so much that I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t breathe.  I ran out of my room and tripped over a truck.  When I got back up, Dad was in front of me with Sam.  “Take Sam and get out of the house.” So I did.  Sam was crying and all I could do was press him against my chest.  When I finally got outside I waited, staring up at the house. I waited for Mom and Dad to come out, I waited while Sam wailed in my arms and I waited and waited._

_Dad came out, coughing and sputtering and our whole house was burning.  I looked at him, and he glanced at me, pain and suffering in his eyes._

_I looked down at Sam, my whole body feeling tight, “Shhhhh Sammy, it’s okay,” I spoke as my voice cracked, “it’s alright, I’ve got you.” My chest tightened and it felt hard to breathe even though the air was fine outside, “we’ll be okay Sam, we’ve got each other,” my voice cracked even more, “we’ll always be okay if we have each other.” And then my resolve to stay calm broke down along with my entire life around me._

_*     *     *_

I gasped, curled on the ground; my entire body was shaking with silent sobs. _I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe._

“I thought we’d always have each other Sam!” I wailed and slammed my head on the floor. It numbed the pain for a moment, so I did it again, and again, until I couldn’t feel anything at all.


	8. Destruction Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean, Dean? Can you hear me? Dean, say something, I need a response here. Oh God please, no no no please."

**Dean**

*    *    *

I was cold and wet and foggy, my head hurt and I wanted to go back to sleep.  Something was dragging me up, pulling at me, first by my clothes and then by my hair.  I looked up and saw a mess of golden curls before water dropped into my eye and I had to rub them again. I pulled away for a second, and it felt like I was spinning. I looked up again, and saw the same mess of curls and this time I could faintly hear someone’s voice, calling for me, but I couldn't grasp on the actual words. She was shaking me again, and she kept shaking, finally my head saw enough of her to recognize the face, “Mom?” I said before I leaned over the bathtub and vomited onto the toilet.  Mom groaned, and tried to lift me up again once she made sure I stopped blowing chunks, and eventually she was able to drag me out of the bathroom. I was almost awake now, but everything was still fuzzy and spinning.  She was yelling at me, no I think it was more yelling to me, but I still couldn't grasp onto what she was saying, I was barely able to make out her face.  I got up the will to stand with Mom’s help and flopped onto my bed.  I wanted to go back to sleep, but Mom wouldn't let me.  She kept shaking me, trying to get me to say something, but my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls.  My vision was getting better, but most everything was still the slight bit fuzzy.  All I could tell was that Mom was here, and she was shaking me for some reason.  Her voice was clearer now, and I could decipher what she was trying to say, “Dean, Dean? Can you hear me? Dean, say something, I need a response here. Oh God please, no no no please," she said before continuing letting out a breathy sob, "I think you had a concussion, Dean? You can’t go to sleep, no, I think you had a concussion and I need you to stay with me. Dean? Can you hear me, Dean? Oh God, what am I going to do, Dean can you hear me? I’m going to call 911 soon Dean, I know you’ll hate me but I think you hurt yourself really badly; I found you and couldn't wake you up.  Can you nod? Can you do something? Dean?” She repeated this a few times before I finally caught on to what she was saying, and had the proper mind to respond to her.

“Mom, stop, m’fine I just slipped and hit my head, stop shaking me, will ya?” I slurred, and I wondered if my speech was comprehensible.  My vision was coming back slowly, and something wasn’t right, Mom had a deep frown on her face, a look I thought she was incapable of doing, “Dean, it’s me, it’s Jess, I need you to stay with me.  You said you hit your head? Do you remember anything after that? No, Dean, stay with me I need you here with me.” My whole body deflated, and I felt confused.  _Why was Mom pretending to be a woman named Jess? Who was Jess?_ I remembered suddenly, and it felt as though my air supply was cut short.  I tried to roll away, but Jess had a tight grip on me.

“Dean, can you tell me more of what happened? I know you really don’t want to go to the hospital so you’re going to have to help me out here,” her voice came again, this time it was more of a plea than anything else.

“I fell,” I groaned, and tried to sit up so I wouldn't fall asleep, “I slipped on the floor after I polished it and I hit my head, I can’t remember anything else.”

“I think you’re really hurt Dean, you may need a CT scan to check for brain injury.  Just don’t fall asleep; we need to keep you up for the next few hours.”

“I’m fine,” I growled and tried to push away from her, but my whole body still felt like it was working against me, despite my newfound ability to speak properly.

“About 20 minutes ago I couldn't wake you up without throwing you into a shower. You look like you've been hit by a truck, and you can barely speak. NOT my definition of fine.”

I looked at her and squinted, trying to give her my most annoyed face, “Why couldn't you just splash water on me.”  She stood there and squared her jaw.

“I don’t need your sass Dean, you were out like a light and I freaked out and you are being a complete asshole.” She ranted, and I cut her off.

“Oh my God Jess fuck off you aren’t my mom leave me alone, I just want to sleep.” I snapped at her.

“Dean stop it I don’t need this shit from you right now.” She started to yell.

“Well then just fuck off I don’t need you to try and fix me, I’m going to fucking sleep.” I yelled back at her, not caring what I was saying.

“Stay the fuck up Dean!”

“WHY?”

“Because I don’t want you in a coma too!” She screamed, and then looked horrified.

And then there was silence.  A silence that couldn't be taken back and that needed to be fixed, but couldn’t be.  My throat constricted, and all I could do was try to breathe.  After a moment she started to speak again but I didn't listen. 

“I think you should leave,” I choked out, so silent and so calm and part of me knew that it would break her.  Part of me wanted it, wanted her to be as broken as me.

“I didn't mean-” She started; her voice was quiet and pleading.

“Go before I call the cops.” I firmly said, and shifted myself under my sheets, dismissing her.  She didn't say anything; she didn't beg or say, “Dean.” She said nothing and she just left.  Her voice still stuck in my head though, and I tried not to sleep.  Instead I opened my laptop and searched the side effects of concussions, because what else did I have to do? 

After a small while, I considered going to get some alcohol, but I didn't want to pass out, so I decided I’d go out tomorrow and refill my liquor stash.  I felt a little anxious not having it, and my whole body itched.  It itched for the relief, it itched for the warm looseness that alcohol provided, it itched.  Sitting in my bed not doing anything, was the worst thing I could imagine, so I went back on my laptop catching myself up on recent news.  My phone started to ring, and I tried to ignore it because I didn't want to get up and travel across the room to pick it up what was probably just a telemarketer.

But it just kept ringing.  I was already irritable, and I just wanted it to stop ringing.  It was so fucking loud.  I pushed my laptop off of me and practically stomped across the room. _Unidentified caller?_ I looked at it, and wondered if I should hang up, which is what I ended up doing.  I was about to get back into bed when it rang again. _Fuck me_. I picked it up, and there was nothing but silence on the line for a moment before I said, “Hello?” I tried to make my voice as rough and intimidating as possible so whoever was calling would stop, but the voice at the end of the line almost laughed.

“Oh Dean, I suppose you guessed that I like it rough,” a rough voice answered, with a _thick Scottish accent_.  I gaped even though I knew he couldn't see me, immediately I got open a tracking program on my laptop and tried to hook up my phone while trying to casually continue the conversation, “Oh you’re ummm,” _think Dean think,_ “the guy from the bar.  Crowley is it?” I hoped that he was someone normal, or at least some desperate guy from a bar that wanted to hook up or do something of that nature.  My gut had a much worse idea of who this man could be, and unfortunately, my gut was often correct.

“Ahh I’m tickled pink you’d remember, so how _are_ you doing Dean?”

“I’m fine, actually I was wondering.  I gave you my number right? At the bar, I can’t quite remember, I was a little bit out of it.” I laughed, trying to keep the mood light, and not give him any suspicion.  The program was almost finished loading up, and I just had to plug my phone into the computer.

“Oh please Dean, let’s not bullshit each other now?” The amusement from his voice never faded, and I gulped hard. _Common program just fucking work_.

“Well then, is there a reason you called?” I said, annoyed again, and my head was throbbing, and I just wondered if I ever got a fucking break.

“I was just calling to check in; you seemed quite out of it the other night.  Did you get home safely?”

“Why yes I did, thank you for asking, I was able to drive myself home safely enough, I suppose I probably shouldn't have in my state of mind but you know.” I don’t know why I lied in that moment, but protecting the odd man in a trench coat seemed important at the time.The program on my computer was working now, and it was trying to find out the general vicinity that this caller was in.

“You do have to be safer; we don't want anything to happen to another Winchester.”  I breathed in hard, and got very mad in that moment.

“You have about three seconds before I hang up.” I breathed out, practically foaming at the mouth with rage.  Crowley just laughed again, and didn't seem the least bit bothered at my words, “Oh I just called to say hello, and check up on my new favorite person. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we? I'll just be going now.”

“Bye.” I seethed and almost hang up before his voice rang out again.

“Oh and Dean?” Crowley stopped me before I could hang up, and I almost thought that he knew it too.

“Yes?” I said, my words were short and clipped.

“Stop trying to track the phone.” He said, before hanging up. I yelled in frustration and threw my phone across the room, and the glass on top shattered in the most satisfying way.  I flopped back onto my bed, and let myself go into the pain of my throbbing head.


	9. Flirting with Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning's up the wazoo. If you're triggered easily, just don't read this. Also don't read this if you aren't in the mood for more heartbreak. This is the last chapter. I might do an alternate ending where there would be a lot more to the story if y'all want.

##  **Dean**

*    *    *

The rest of the night was filled with pain pills, trying not to sleep, and wishing I could go see Sam without having yet another uncomfortable experience.  I kept trying to sink back into the dull, foggy feeling I had earlier, the feeling that I usually induce with alcohol, but it wouldn’t come.  I liked how it was between sleeping, away from the terrors that haunted my dreams, and being awake, away from the terrors that haunted my everyday life.  It was almost frustrating, and I could feel myself needing it more and more.  I needed the sensation, the escape, the calm that it provided.  _I could try the pills_.  And before I had consciously made a decision my body was already moving toward the bathroom. _Benadryl…Tums…Peracetamol? What the fuck is that… fever reducer, not helping._   I kept searching for something that would work, and eventually found a container of Advil, it didn’t quite seem like it would give me the desired effect, so I put it back into the tub and kept searching through. _5/500mg Vicodin, seems like a few of these should do the trick_.  I took 3 pills out of the bottle and briefly wondered why I had extra Vicodin laying around, but guessed it was from one of my many visits to the hospital for broken bones or other pains.  Without another though, I swallowed the three pills with some tap water, and retreated back into my bed.  My laptop was uninteresting, my phone was cracked and somewhere on the floor, and my anxiety over the past few hours was kicking in. _Fucking meds, just kick in already,_ I thought to myself, my feet tapping anxiously on the floor.  I felt like I wanted to hit something, partly out of frustration, and partly out of wanting the pain that came with it. 

Eventually the medicine kicked in, not only helping me with the pain in my head, but also it helped with putting me into a state of not caring.  I slipped into a haze and waited out the rest of the night, not really sleeping, not really awake, just in the lovely place of in-between where my mind didn’t have to focus on anything in particular.  The feeling was nice, it was like floating on a bunch of cotton balls, because we all know that floating on a cloud is impossible.

*     *     *

_“WHERE’S SAM!” Dad roared, his voice laced with an anger I hadn’t seen before._

_“I don’t know! He left I tried to find him, I swear he was just gon-” his hands were on my shoulders, shaking me._

_“You fucking lost him? You worthless little piece of-”_

_“I didn’t mean to, **John**.” I spat out, trying to shove his hands off of me, but his grip was iron clad._

_“What did you just call me?” And now I was on the ground, I didn’t remember how, I just knew one moment I was upright, and the next I was on the floor, my back slamming against the dresser.  I groaned as I tried to get back up._

_“You need to need your fucking place boy,” he said as he shoved me back down again.  I put my hands over my head and crouched down to brace for the worst._

_“I thought I told you-” the first kick was to my thigh, and I fell completely on the ground. “-to watch out for Sam-” the second blow was directly to my ribs, and I lost all the air in my body. “-and what did you fucking do?” Three more on the ribs, I couldn’t catch my breath._

_“Answer me you stupid boy,” he screamed and drove his boot into the back of my head.  I was lying in fetal position on the rough carpet, coughing and sputtering._

_“I lost him sir.” I choked out._

_“Yes you fucking did,” he said and kept up with kicks toward my ribs, “and what did I tell you to do? What have I ALWAYS told you to do.”  I couldn’t breathe, let alone answer him, his foot was now digging into my chest, applying constant pressure.  Everything was going black and fuzzy around the edges, he removed the boot, but continued with the blows on my body._

_“To take care of Sam, sir,” I wailed, just wanting the pain to stop._

_“What was that?” He screamed, he crouched down so he was on my level and pulled on my hair to keep my attention._

_“To take care of Sam!” I said, before blacking out._

*     *     *

When I woke up the next morning, I only had one thought on my mind, _Sam_.  I got dressed as quickly as I could, grabbed my backpack and rushed over to the hospital, eager to go see Sam.  Once I was all settled in I started telling Sam about the events of the past few days, skipping over the bit about kissing Castiel.   It’s not that I was embarrassed of having a crush on Castiel.  _Because you don’t have a crush on Castiel_ I reminded myself.  I just didn’t want to talk to him like that when he couldn’t talk back.  They say that when people are in comas sometimes can hear you, and remember what happens when they wake up.  I didn’t want to talk to him about liking someone if he couldn’t respond. _You don’t like Castiel!_  I sat next to Sam for a while before I pulled out my laptop and started looking through the news; it gave me something to do, and kept me informed.  Eventually I hear a knock on the door frame; sometimes the nurses and the nurses assistants would pretend to give me the pleasure of having my consent matter, when really they would just come in anyway.  I turned back and saw Lisa, so I nodded my head for her to come in.  She said something that I didn’t pay attention to as she walked in the room holding a tray with food and a small envelope.  I nodded again so that she thought I was paying attention, and she pulled up a chair next to me.

“Dean did you hear me?” She asked, her voiced portraying a slightly annoyed tone.  I looked back at her and just nodded again.

“Okay so I know you have the highest hopes for Sam, but in reality you have to learn to let go, there are grief counselors and I think it’s time-“

“What?”

“I thought we were talking about cutting off-”

“No, no we aren’t talking about anything, I think you should leave.” I said, and motioned for her to exit the room.  She started to exit un

“Dean you need to wake up and realize that you’re driving yourself trying to save someone that is gone.”

“You’re in no place to be saying any of this, you’re just a crazy over attached nurse that doesn’t know boundaries,” I retorted, my voice rough and my eyes serious, “you went from being kind, but now it’s just creepy, so do yourself and me a favor, and please just fuck off.” 

There was a moment of silence where Lisa just looked at me.  For those few seconds it seemed like everything had stopped, I couldn’t even hear the beeping of Sam’s machine. Eventually Lisa just bowed her head and left the room without another exchange of words.  My stomach sank, and I was tempted to apologize, or chase after her, make amends and try to take back what I said.  In reality though, an apology from me would have no worth because it wouldn’t be true, and no one came in between Sam and me, not ever again.

I glanced back at Sam and put my hands in my face, “When are you going to wake up Sam?  I need you here,” I said, my voice cracking, “it should be me in that bed, not you.  I’m sorry Sam, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”  Eventually I regained control, and logged back onto my laptop.  After a few hours I heard another knock at the door and I turned my head, ready to tell whichever nurse it was to fuck off.  Instead it was Jess, quietly standing there.  I looked down at my watch and noticed it was 11:15, plenty enough time for me to have left, and yet I was still sitting here like an asshole.  I put on my jacket and grabbed my backpack, trying to head out the door without saying anything to Jess, and she seemed to have the same idea as I did while entering the room.  Just as I was out into the hallway I heard a, “Dean!” With a large sigh I saw Jess running toward me with something in her hand, “I think this is yours,” she said and handed me the same envelope from the tray earlier.  On the back of it was a small Deanwritten in horribly messy handwriting.  I took it from her and shoved it into my coat pocket.  After that, I exited the hospital without looking back or acknowledging her existence.  

Once I was out, I decided to go for walk to clear my head.  I got into the impala and drove to a nearby park.  After depositing my backpack into the impala I started my walk.  Overland Park was actually a fairly beautiful part of Kansas, there were trees everywhere, and it was small enough where if you wanted to go out for a walk you wouldn’t be choking on exhaust fumes.  My feet set into a natural rhythm and I enjoy the small sounds that they made every time they hit the concrete.  I didn’t really have a place I was going, I just knew that I wanted to go somewhere, burn off some nervous energy.  Lately my whole life was a whole jumble of confusing events and I just wanted it to end.  _Why did everything have to happen to me now?_   I thought to myself, and as I continued to think I didn’t notice the man in the trench coat up ahead.  I bumped into the figure with a satisfying “oomph”.

“The fuck,” said a deep rough voice, and I looked up to see two very blue eyes staring into my own.  I struggled to say anything at all; my breath was caught in my throat.  I recognized him immediately, it was Castiel, except for he looked a lot more disheveled.   He had a large amount of scruff and his hair was messed up, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in quite a while.  _Is this the guy I was so attracted to?_

“I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to-”

“Dean.”  With that one word I stopped everything, it was completely crazy, and yet my whole being gravitated toward him. 

“I’m sorry about the other night, I was fairly rude,” he continued, and I just stared at the ground, not knowing what to say. 

“It’s fine, I was drunk and being weird, I’m sorry for bothering you and coming onto you.” I answered eventually, my mind and heart racing for some unexplainable reason.

“I never said I minded.” He said, and gave me a weak smile, he seemed pretty out of it, and I wondered if he was doing alright.  _It’s none of your business, just leave._  I told myself, and yet I was incapable of forcing myself to do so.

“You know you look like shit,” I said before I could stop myself, and luckily he didn’t take offense to my brashness.  He gave the same weak smile and replied, “you don’t look so good yourself, when was the last time you slept, or ate?”  I shrugged in response, it wasn’t really his business, and I highly doubted he didn’t already know the answer.  We stood there for about 30 more seconds before he turned to leave muttering a quick goodbye.  The whole situation confused me, even more than the confused state I was in prior to the meeting, and I decided to do something irrational.

“Hey Castiel?”  I called out to him, praying that he would hear it.

“Hmm?” He answered, turning around.

“I was just on my way to go get some liquor from the store, would you maybe want to come?”  I mentally kicked myself for this brazen act; it probably wasn’t bad enough for me that this same person rejected me not even 48 hours ago.  He stood there for a moment, seemingly to be at war with himself.  My heart stopped as I waited for his answer.  _Why does this matter so much to you_ I thought to myself, but I ignored it completely.

“Ok.” His voice responded after what seemed like forever, and I shivered.  I walked in his direction and quickly said, “this way.”  We walked together; a few people that we passed looked at us as though we were well dressed homeless people, which brought a smile to my face.  Castiel didn’t talk much, but when he did it sent shivers down my spine.  This was completely   impulsive and irrational and I loved it.  When we finally got to the store I went straight for the hard liquor, leaving Castiel to figure out what he wanted to get.  I picked up three large bottles of Jack and a bottle of vodka.  The cashier looked too high to care how much alcohol I was purchasing, and Castiel came up behind me with an awful looking bottle of gin.  Once we paid I led him back out of the store, and if I hadn’t known better I would have said he was already a bit drunk, but it was probably just exhaustion and stress.  I knew the signs of them way too well.  I walked him back to my car and this walk contained a bit more conversation than the walk to the store, although it was still fairly quiet.  I looked at him and motioned for him to get into the car, and he swayed a bit.  I decided this was the time to give him an out before he got himself into a situation he didn’t want to be in, _why do you care_.

“Are you sure you want to come back with me?” I asked my voice betraying my nervousness.

“We’re not going to have sex are we?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.  I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, his tone seemed so innocent, and yet the rest of him was far from that.  I decided I may as well answer honestly, “I wasn’t planning on it,” and with that he got into the car.  I probably should have been slightly offended, but I was too relieved that he was actually coming that I didn’t take note of it.  The drive home wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it was going to be, especially since almost as soon as we started driving Castiel cracked a joke, “I seem to remember we were in opposite positions the last time we were in a car together.”

I laughed, but couldn’t come up with any witty retort, so I just played off the conversation.  We talked about a variety of things before we finally got back to my house, and I was actually grateful for the reprieve once we stopped talking.  I grabbed my backpack and the handed Castiel the bag of alcohol while I searched for my key.  Once we were inside I grabbed a bottle of Jack and plopped down on my couch.  I was in no mood to be hospitable and I doubted Castiel would really mind.  He shut the door behind us and followed my course of actions, grabbing his own bottle of crappy gin and sitting next to me.

We sat there in silence, quietly drinking from our designated bottles.  I took notice that Castiel was mostly just taking the bottle and sipping from it, not getting more than his tongue wet.  Every time he would scrunch up his nose like he hates it, but the expression would soon fade and turn into his normal stoic one.  After a few more actual sips from myself I started to get slightly annoyed by his patterns, not like he noticed, he mostly just stared straight ahead and occasionally glanced my way when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I turned a bit so that I could catch his eye, and when we finally locked eyes I took a large swig of my drink, finished with an over the top, “ahhhhh,” and I lifted my eyebrow.   His blank expression turned into something that I hoped was a mixture of challenge and flirtatiousness.  He met my gaze and repeated my actions, but instead of a swig he took two large gulps of gin.  He tried to keep a straight face, but I could tell he wasn’t quite a drinker like me.  His eyes started to tear up and he coughed loudly, eventually croaking out, “water.” 

“Fucking baby,” I laughed at him, and narrowly dodged a clumsy hit.

“Asshole.” He countered, his speech slightly slurred already.

“At least I can hold my liquor.” I said as I poured him a glass of water and looked for some chaser for him in the fridge.  Luckily, Jess had bought me some coke, and I grabbed him a can.  He greedily took the water and then eyed the can, “the hell is that for?” He croaked.

“If we want to keep going you need something to help you keep that down.” I said in a mocking tone, and though it seemed to annoy him, he grabbed the can from me anyway.  I smirked at the small victory, and continued with my own bottle of jack.  Two more healthy swigs and I was already feeling better.  Castiel seemed to be doing better once I had given him the coke in to sip on in between sips of gin.

“You know, if you’d bought something that wasn’t a cheap piece of crap then you wouldn’t have such a hard time drinking it.” I told him after he visibly gagged.

“Doesn’t seem like you have much of a problem with it,” he growled back, but it seemed to be somewhat lighthearted.  He was positioned closer to me, and his body seemed loose, like it was an old Gumby toy that you could bend and shape in any way you wanted.  I smiled at him and quietly said, “I’ve had a lotuv’ practice.”  For a moment, his face portrayed something that could actually seen as actual, deep emotion.  His whole face fell and he looked like something was actually hurting him. 

“’re you okay?” I asked, because in the state of mind I thought that if I asked nicely enough I would actually get information out of a weird, cryptic, stranger.

“Are you?” He questioned back at me, and I guess I couldn’t be mad.  If I wasn’t willing to answer the same question, why should he?  And yet I still couldn’t help the small huff of disappointment at his avoidance of my question.  The next hour went by in a blur, I had finished half a bottle of jack by the time he had finished about a fifth of his gin, but it didn’t really matter because we practically at the same level of drunkenness.  We had settled closer together on the couch, my head resting on his chest and his arm over my body.  It was calming.  In that moment I was the calmest I’d been since Sam slipped away from me.  I nuzzled my head somewhat under his trench coat.  He smelled sweet, and nice, and like everything good all at once.  Something was playing on the TV, but neither of us paid attention to that.  We talked about stupid things, like our favorite foods, what sports we played when we were younger, stupid, stupid things that were inevitably better to talk about than what was actually going on.  I drank a little more and looked back into Cas’s perfect eyes.  His face slowly leaned down, and his lips were on mine.  It was sweet, and gentle, and kind and all of the things that our first kiss should have been.  And then suddenly he was on top of me.

His hands were threaded in my hair, pulling my hair, exposing my neck.  Our kiss became a messy battle of teeth and tongues, but I didn’t think or care, I just wanted him.  His lips traveled to my neck and I groaned.  The entire atmosphere had shifted from relatively calm to a burning hot furnace.  It was difficult to breathe, but I didn’t, more like couldn’t, care at that moment.  Eventually he pulled away, and I gave a small groan in protest.

“Now that’s how you kiss a person, Dean.”  Cas said, his eyes playful and his breath hot against my cheek.  I leaned up to try to kiss him again, but he had none of it and switched our positions around so that I was leaning on him again, and the whole encounter confused me.  We sat there a while, just enjoying each other’s warmth, and I drifted off again *before suddenly Cas jerked away, and looked at me. 

“What?” I questioned, my voice seemed groggy.

“Did you ever get my card?”

“Your what?”

“My card, it was in a blue envelope,  I dropped it off at the hospital.”  I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about when I suddenly remembered.  I pulled out a blue envelope from jacket pocket and opened it. It was a heavy for a card, but it looked fairly normal.  On the front was a large sun with sunglasses and a smile.  I opened it up and it said, “you’re a ray of sun, just keep smiling.”  I was a tiny bit confused, that was until the song started playing

“ **You are my sunshine, my only sunshine**

**You make me happy, when skies are grey**

**You’ll never know how, how much I love you**

**Please don’t take my, sunshine away.”**

 I looked back at Cas with obvious confusion and he just stood there dumb founded.  Eventually he ended up muttering, “I suppose when they it said ‘plays the sunshine song’ it wasn’t talking about ‘pocketful of sunshine’.”  Cas slurred, his speech almost undecipherable except that I was an expert in drunk-talk.

“You got me a card that was supposed to play ‘pocketful of sunshine’?” I asked, a smile creeping along the edges of my face.

“I thought you could use a pick-me-up.” He retorted, and chuckled.  I gestured to my half empty bottle of jack and said, “this is the only pick-me-up I need.”  The whole exchange was odd, and I was left a little bit confused on why he got me the card in the first place.  I knew he said it was because he thought I needed a “pick-me-up” but why had he thought I needed one of those.  I decided to just ask the question, because that is what a normal, sober adult would do.

“Why would I need a pick-me-up?”

“Well because of your brother, I’ve been told that you haven’t been doing too well and I just wanted to-”

“What do you mean ‘my brother’” I interrupted.

“Well I was told what happened and how he was practically dead and,” Castiel said, his eyes looked at me with confusion, and he cut off the rest of his sentence.

“My brother is fine,” I said in a gruff voice, pulling away from him, “and I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, you should go.”

“Dean, I know this is a sensitive topic,” the very drunk Castiel started, trying to get his wits about him, “but your brother is gone.  He’s in a coma and he’s not coming out.”

“Shut up!” I yelled at him, not being able to contain my anger.

“Grow up, you’re acting like a child, it’s time for you to let go and reach out to the people who care about you in your life, they can’t be expected to be the only ones to make contact.”

“Fuck you, and get the fuck out of my house!”

“Dean just listen, you’re acting like a fucking spoiled brat, will you just calm yourself.”

“You have no right to come into my home and tell me how to behave, now get the fuck out before I physically remove you.”  I was much bigger than him, and considering he was slightly drunker than I was, it probably wouldn’t have been a hard task to remove him.

“Fuck you.” He said, and slammed the door.

About two seconds later I heard a horn, loud screeching of tires, and a crash.  It took my mind longer to process the situation than it did my body, because I was out the door before I even knew what I was doing. 

“CASTIEL!” I shouted, running up to him, or at least where his body lay “Cas? Common Cas, say something.  Cas common, you  can’t leave like this.  I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry I didn’t meant to I’m sorry oh my God Cas please come back please.”  It was incoherent rambles of a drunk man, and the driver next to me was calling 911 but I knew it was too late.  I checked for heartbeat, but there was nothing, nothing at all.  I wept at the sight of his body, this was my entire fault,  I was such a fucking fuckup that I alienated my last person and now he was dead.  What the fuck was wrong with me?  I went back into my house, leaving his body behind, despite the confused protests of the now murderous driver, but the only real murder was me. I’d murdered my girlfriend, I’d murdered Sam, and now I’d murdered Castiel.

Nothing was right in my life, there was no point.  I stayed in one position for a long time, not feeling, and just quietly trying to remember to breathe, when in reality I wish I could have forced my body to stop.  I finished off the remaining bottle of Jack, and what was left of Castiel’s gin, nursing it just as he did for what had seemed like forever ago.  I started to drift away, into a land of no pain or sadness or anything.  I couldn’t hear or feel, and it felt so incredibly nice, like I was being lifted onto a cloud.  As I drifted away, I swore I could see Sam’s face, and hear his voice.  _This must be heaven_ , I had thought, and finally let myself go, I was too tired to fight, and now that I was with Sam, I didn’t have to fight anymore.

This is my Goodbye, I’m finally and forever done.

**Sam**

*    *    *

I lost my brother the day I woke up.  They told me that I was in a coma for months, and that Dean had come and visited me almost every day.  They say that my illness took a toll on him, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.  He died of alcohol poisoning that night.  I got to see him for all of 30 minutes when he was in the ER.  Most of the time people were surrounding him and asking what the hell another patient was doing around there, but I got to see Dean.  He was passed out, most of the time and yet for one brief moment he woke up.  He looked up into my eyes and muttered, “Sammy?” 

“Dean? It’s okay, Dean I’m here for you, it’s all gonna be okay,”  I said, my voice raspy, and my body weak.  I would have done anything to just keep him awake. 

“Sam…” Dean said, before losing his grip on consciousness and life.

They had to take me out of the room.  I don’t remember much of what happened, only that I was screaming and wouldn’t let the doctors tend to him.

They said I wasn’t supposed to wake up, that I was in a coma and I was supposed to die.

They said that Dean was a fairly healthy male, and that he should have lived well beyond the actual age of his death.  Someone said it was almost like he exchanged his own life for mine, and knowing Dean, he would have if he could.

  A short man came up to me.  He couldn’t have been less than 5’10, but I suppose when you’re 6’4 everything is relative.  The man was in a trench coat, and he had serious gashes on his face.  He also had a sling over his shoulder which carried a bandaged arm.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and when I looked at him I felt that I should have known him, but I didn’t.  Another even smaller, and definitely fatter, man visited me at the hospital asking what happened, and I wondered if Dean had made many friends while I was in a coma.  I said that he died in his sleep, and he chuckled.  _What an odd way of dealing showing remorse._ Is the first thing I thought.  Eventually he said something along the lines of, “we all knew this day was coming.” And he stalked off.  I could have sworn that he had a faint Scottish accent, but I my mind was swimming in all of its own thoughts that I really didn’t pay attention to others at that moment.

The nurse blames herself for being too hard on him,  Bobby, my surrogate father, blames himself for not coming to save him.  I blame myself for causing so much pain in his life, and for some reason the short man in the trench coat blamed himself.

My brother died the day I woke up.

Now isn’t that a ray of sunshine?*


End file.
